Yuletide in Rohan A Winter's Tale
by Frigg
Summary: Inspired by the upcoming holidays season I wrote this small oneshot ..... hope that you will enjoy it. Éomer and Lothíriel are expecting guests, but the winter in Rohan is an obstacle ..


A/N: The approaching holiday season inspired me to write this little one-shot. Enjoy the Christmas holidays, all of you! 

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year to all of you! Let us hope that we shall all meet again on these pages next year!

Love,

Frigg

Yuletide in Rohan 

(A Winter's Tale)

Why did winters in Rohan have to be so infernally cold? The young Queen of Rohan hurried across from the privies to the door leading into the corridors of Meduseld. And why were the privies so primitive and situated such a long way from their warm bedroom?

She smiled to herself. At least in that respect she was still the spoiled princess of Dol Amroth, used to a milder climate and facilities, which were a bit more adequate according to her standards. She had only been the Queen of Rohan for neigh on eighteen months, but she was the mother of a fine son – the heir to the throne – and in spite of everything, she loved her new, rough country in the North just as much as she loved her husband and her son.

It was still very early, and the sky was very dark as it was here in the North in winter; the days were shorter and the nights longer and the sun stood lower on the horizon. She had woken and felt a need to go to the privies, and so she had found her winter boots and her husband's fur-lined cloak to wear over her nightgown – that is, she had had to find her nightgown first and she had fumbled for it in the dim light of the fire. How on in all of Middle Earth had it ended up under the bed? Lothíriel smiled to herself; she remembered very well how her nightgown had ended up there.

A hot fire was burning in their bedroom and the bed had been furbished with extra fur covers, but Lothíriel had still complained that she was cold. Her husband had grinningly offered to warm her – which in turn had led to Lothíriel's nightgown ending up on the floor, and she had forgotten all about the cold, until she had awoken in her husband's arms, needing to go to the privies.

Lothíriel hurried through the corridor. She passed the room where her young son was fast asleep in his cot and she tiptoed in to pull the covers over him. She paused and smiled as she watched his sleeping, peaceful little face in the dim light of the fire in the room.

She then entered the bedroom, which she shared with her husband. The fire was now almost reduced to embers and so she stirred the fire and put on a couple of logs, and then she shed the large cloak and her boots. The floor outside the fur rugs felt cold to her bare feet and she hurried to her bed.

Here was another male, sleeping peacefully. Éomer, King of the Mark and Lothíriel's husband was lying on his back, one arm thrown over his head. The fact that his arms and upper body were above the covers did not seem to bother him. Éomer obviously never felt the cold the way she did; but then he was used to it.

Lothíriel smiled at the sight. He was so beautiful – although he would probably wince at being called so – in the light from the fire. His blonde mane of hair flowed over the pillow and his dark lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. At the moment his closed eyelids hid his eyes, which sometimes were hazel, at other times dark brown as velvet and almost black when he was angry – or very passionate.

Lothíriel dived under the covers again; she knew that she needed the rest and that her son would wake her up early, but as she was watching her husband sleep, looking at his finely chiselled chest and the features of his face, she remembered the state that he had left her in last night, a state of utter satisfaction and bliss and she felt a hot surge in her body. She loved him so, and they needed to take the moments that they could. Who knew when he had to leave her again and go to war. Peace did not yet reign in Middle Earth; Southron and Easterling vassals were not satisfied and it still rumbled of malcontent in their countries. Already twice in their short marriage, Aragorn had had to call for the Rohirrim; true it had not been for war but just to show the Southron lords that Rohan and Gondor meant business and would stand together until the end of all things.

The Dunlendings seldom left Rohan alone, especially not in this cold weather. As yet, here close to Yule, there had not been much snow but it had been freezingly cold for several weeks and if you had not gathered provisions before the winter, you would find nothing now.

The people of Rohan had plenty now; they had had a fine harvest this year and their herds were thriving. The first two years after the wars against Sauron, they had had no crops and no harvest to speak of and they had to build up the herds, which had been scattered by Saruman's and Sauron's forces. Food had been scarce and they had needed the help that they had got from Gondor. But this year they had amble provisions; unfortunately this also meant that the Dunlendings had taken up the raids on the Éorlingas once more.

Éomer and his marshals had already had to fight them off several times, and Éomer still being more warrior than king, insisting on joining his men.

Lothíriel always carried the fear in her heart when he left with his men, but she knew that Éomer felt that it was his duty. The Rohirrim forces were not yet up to full strength after their losses at Pelennor and Morannon or Helm's Deep, and he could not – and would not – ask of his men to do what he would not himself.

They needed their king as he needed them. Even more so now; most of the grown men, both regular riders and herdsmen, had been killed during the fierce battle of the war against Sauron and Saruman and their sons now made up most of the forces of Rohan. Most of them were very young and inexperienced, and they needed the role model that Éomer was to them all.

His queen understood this very well, and she loved him for it, but she also knew that this would also mean that some day his men might bring his body back when he exposed himself to danger. He was a formidable warrior, the young King of Rohan, and he had come through the wars unscathed – but he was not immortal.

Lothíriel shuddered at the thought and got into bed beside her husband, lying down close to him. Then she sat up again and shed her nightgown, dropping it by the side of the bed. She smiled to herself and snuggled up against her husband's warm, naked body and let her hand tentatively rest on his stomach.

She knew that even the slightest touch might wake him. A lifetime of being on his guard had made Éomer a light sleeper, especially when touched in his sleep. Several times in the first weeks of their marriage when neither of them were used to sharing a bed with somebody, he had jerked up from his sleep if her hand had accidentically brushed his arm.

Her hand slid up to rest on his chest, playing with his chest hair; the other resting on his arm – and suddenly she felt a large hand encircle hers. She looked up into her husband's sleepy, dark eyes.

"Your hands are cold," he ascertained, his voice still slightly husky from sleep. "Did I not warm you sufficiently last night?"

"You did, but I had to get up – and now I am cold again," Lothíriel said softly, a little mirth showing in her voice.

"Did our son wake you?" he asked as he pulled her into his arms.

"No, but I had to ---- go outside," she said.

"Now I know why you are so bloody cold," he chuckled. "But, Lothy, you could have put on your nightgown." His voice was teasing; he knew exactly why she did not wear it; she could tell from the response in the lower part of his body, which was still covered. She could feel him against her.

"Aye, I could, but then you would have to remove it again," she giggled.

"Oh, and why is that?" Éomer dipped his head to nibble on her earlobe.

"Because the only way you can get me warm, is to make love to me," Lothíriel said huskily.

"My Lady, do you not think me capable of warming you in any other way?" Éomer chuckled.

"Yes, but this is the best way that I know – and the only way that you can be absolutely sure."

"Well, then I had better comply," Éomer growled; his hands started caressing her and proceeding according to his wife's wishes, they were soon more than adequately warm; a fact which Lothíriel affirmed as they were cuddled up against each other in the afterglow, trying to get the last couple of hours' sleep before their young son awoke.

Éomer held his wife close; he felt her even breathing against his chest and he smiled softly. What a wonderful woman she was – and what solace she had brought to his life. It never ceased to amaze him how their relationship had developed during the time that they had been married.

True, Lothíriel was never a conventional woman; the upbringing with three very boisterous brothers had caused this, but never had he thought that he would actually find a wife, who matched him so well in all aspects of life be it temper, passion and sense of humour. Their relationship was warm and full of love, and she was a tremendous support to him, in their everyday life and in their rule as king and queen of Rohan.

Éomer King was, indeed, a lucky man he thought – "and my luck started the day, I walked into the Houses of Healing and saw that sea-green eyed wench with the long dark braid and the freckles," he mused just before he fell asleep.

A couple of hours later they both awoke by the sound of a very annoyed young man, who obviously wanted the attention of his mother. Lothíriel disentangled herself from Éomer's arms, shivered as her feet hit the floor, fumbled for her nightgown and got into that and her robe.

"I will fetch him – and then you can entertain him while I get dressed," she said over her shoulder to her husband as she hurried to the nursery.

Éomer groaned and sat up in bed. He looked over at the fireplace and saw that the fire was very low. He got up and pulled on his breeches and a robe. Then he went over to the fireplace and put on a couple of logs from the basket beside it. He sat down in one of the high-backed chairs, facing the fire and stirring it from time to time to get it going. Even he, who was used to the cold winters of his country, could feel the cold and he thought to himself that it was no wonder that his wife, who originated from a place near the sea with a much milder climate, froze through the Rohan winter.

Lothíriel had picked up a very annoyed Elfwine. The little boy mewled angrily as his mother lifted him from his crib and she issued little cooing noises to soothe him. "Whoa, little man. You are angry, are you not? Mama is here now – and she is getting you a clean diaper as fast as she can."

She carried her son to the adjacent wash and dressing room and found clean clothes and a diaper, as she walked along. She put him down on the table and removed the wet things – after which her son's anger ceased and he sent his mother a fine smile, showing his four little teeth.

She smiled tenderly at her son. "And you also want something to eat, don't you? You can sit with papa, while I get you something," she cooed.

She, of course, had a maid helping her with the child and herself but Lothíriel had learned that life in Rohan was not the same as in Dol Amroth, and it was not customary for the Éorlingas, even though they were royalty, to surround themselves with a large number of servants and, besides, she wanted to take care of her child herself; she enjoyed being with her son.

As she was busy dressing her little son, her maid Cedra came through the door. "My Lady, good morning," she said with a smile as she looked at her queen and the heir to the throne of Rohan.

"Good morning, Cedra," Lothíriel smiled at her maid.

"Should I take the prince, my Lady, while you get dressed?" Cedra asked.

"No, thank you. I will take him to his father, but if you could fetch some porridge for him – and tell Fréalin that we shall be taking our breakfast in our rooms today so that she could bring it there, it would be good." Lothíriel said.

"Very well, my Lady," Cedra nodded and left the room to carry out orders.

Lothíriel had finished dressing her son and was now carrying him into their bedroom. Éomer had gotten a good fire going and had washed and dressed in the meantime. He now reached out for his son, who chuckled as he was received into his father's arms. Lothíriel smiled at the sight.

"Now your mother should get dressed in a hurry so that she can feed you – and then your father may enjoy his breakfast?" Éomer quipped.

"I have ordered breakfast served in our rooms today," Lothíriel said. "It is so cold today that I prefer to stay in here as long as possible. It takes forever to have the dining hall warmed up."

"Good idea, little wife. But we have to have warmed up both the dining hall and the great hall for the yuletide celebrations anyway – or have you completely forgotten that your Ada, Amrothos and Leia are arriving in a couple of days?"

"Of course I haven't; I am looking so much forward to seeing them – and I am looking forward to the peace and fun of the festive season," Lothíriel laughed.

Last year's celebrations had been the first since their marriage and Lothíriel had really rejoiced in the relaxed and joyous way, her new people celebrated solstice – or yuletide as they called it. She knew the solstice celebrations from home, but they were quite different from the celebrations that she had experienced in Edoras, only the gifts and the fact that they got to spend time with family and friends being the same. Usually the weather did not permit them to spend much time outside as they did at Belfalas; instead everybody spent a lot of time indoors talking, playing all sort of games, eating, and drinking.

Éomer joggled his son on his knee and smiled at his wife, as she passed him to get dressed. He managed to keep his son busy until she returned, dressed in a dark green woollen dress with a fur lined jacket to match, her hair in a simple braid down her back. She sat down in the chair opposite Éomer and buttoned up to reveal her breast.

"Soon he will be too big to get suck; I was thinking of having him weaned now," she sighed. "How time flies."

"Hm, then perhaps I can get that area of you to myself again," Éomer quipped, as he handed over their son to his mother who laid him at her breast. The babe immediately found the nipple and gave a content sound.

"I know how you feel, son; I am hungry, too – and I am also very much in favour of your mother's attributes," his father chuckled. Lothíriel made a face at her husband.

There was a knock on the door, and Cedra entered with a large tray filled with breakfast for the family. She put the tray on the table and lit a few candles. The day was breaking; a dim and hesitant light could be seen through the window, but it was still too dark to call it day.

Cedra looked at the queen, "I shall bring the prince's porridge in a little while. Will you require my services now, my Lady?"

Lothíriel shook her head, "No, not until you bring the porridge; then you may feed him," she said.

Cedra nodded and prepared to leave.

Éomer nodded his thanks to his wife's maid and poured his wife a cup of hot tea, which he placed on a small side table beside her chair.

"Cedra came as sent by Béma," he said.

"No, actually by Fréalin," Lothíriel grinned as she lifted her son so that he could burp – which he did obligingly. Both parents smiled at the sound, he had no inhibitions their little son. Éomer pulled up a chair to the table and started his breakfast, just as his wife laid Elfwine to the other breast.

"Do you want something to eat now, Lothy?" he inquired.

"No, I'll wait until he is fed and then I will join you when Cedra returns with his porridge."

"Soon he will be able to eat on his own, at the rate he is growing," Éomer grunted.

"He just takes after you – or so Fréalin says," his wife grinned.

Cedra returned to take the babe and fed him his porridge. "I shall be by in a little while, but I do have things to do this morning – and preparations to make," the queen sighed, "so I would like you to look after him."

"I should like nothing better, my Lady," the young maid replied. She was very fond of the king and queen and loved the little prince as her own little brother.

Lothíriel joined her husband at the breakfast table. "Do you have council this morning?" she inquired as she helped herself to some bread and cheese and some more tea.

Éomer nodded. "Yes, I do. In spite of the time of year we do have a lot of matters to settle before we can take our leisure."

His queen nodded. "Aye, and with the Dunlendings still giving us trouble, you have enough on your mind."

"I do hope that they will leave us alone; the last time we set in a strike against them, we hurt them severely," Éomer said, "but they are hardy people, and their hatred towards us has not diminished these past few years. I hope to approach their leaders in the year to come, hoping that we can reach some sort of settlement – even if it means that I shall have to grant them some land beyond the Westfold."

"But, let us not talk about this now; are you looking forward to having at least some of your family here?" he asked, reaching across the small table to take his wife's hand.

"That I am," she said, "it has been a while, since I have seen any of them – in fact not since Amrothos' wedding."

"Well, I had better get to it," Éomer rose from his chair, sighing. "I would rather stay here with you, but in a few days I get to spend more time with you – and the babe." He leaned over and kissed her. "See you at midday, wife." Then he walked to the door and disappeared out into the corridor.

"At midday it is, my love," Lothíriel promised and got up herself. She looked over to the window; it was as if the sun had decided not to show itself on the horizon today, and the clouds hung dark and low over the mountains. She shivered in her warm clothes and went to fetch a shawl.

Passing through the nursery, she saw that Cedra had finished feeding the young prince and was now giving him a change of clothes. "I believe that I had better dress him warmly," she said as she saw the queen. "Even large fires will not keep us warm this winter."

"No," Lothíriel admitted, "Gamling said the other night that he had never experienced anything like this." She looked at her son, who was busy examining one of his feet; she smiled. "I would rather spend time with him, but I need to talk to Fréalin about the preparations for the celebrations – and the rooms for our guests," she said, "Cedra, I will send somebody to pick up the tray, but could you make up our bed? I am sure that Elfwine can play on his own while you do that."

"Certainly, my Lady." Cedra said, smiling at the queen. "Just you go about yours, and I shall see to the rest. I'll take care of the prince and play with him until it is time for his nap."

On her way to the kitchen, the queen smiled to herself. That was what she treasured about her new people; they were honest, outspoken, and practical. They treated their royal family with love and respect, but they were never humble. A proud people, they were, the Éorlingas.

Come to think of it, that was what had attracted her about Éomer – apart from her initial attraction to his looks; his pride in and love of his people and his undying loyalty towards them. Even though it had delayed his courting of her for some months, she truly admired her husband for his loyalty and commitment towards his people.

She reached the kitchen regions, where the housekeeper Fréalin ruled. Fréalin had been the housekeeper of Théoden King since before his queen died in childbirth, and she had practically raised his son, the late Théodred. She had also been a mother to the orphaned children of the king's sister, when they came to live at Edoras.

Fréalin still regarded Éomer as her own son and the fact that he was now the king did not affect her at all. Lothíriel had come to revere the older woman just as much as Éomer did.

Now she looked up as her queen entered the kitchen. "Good morrow, my Lady. Did you sleep well?" the housekeeper asked.

"Very well, thank you, once I was warm enough," Lothíriel replied. "But I had to get up some time during the night – and in this weather it is somewhat of an ordeal to go outdoors. When Éomer gets the time I mean to discuss a rebuilding of Meduseld to have some facilities, which resembles those they have at Belfalas."

Fréalin chuckled. "Aye, my Lady. It would be a good idea; it is indeed tiresome to have go outdoors especially at this time of year."

"Now, Fréalin – what think you about the plans for the celebrations and how should we place the guests?"

"I had thought that the prince, your father would prefer staying in Éomer's old room; it is far warmer than the room that Théodred once inhabited, and then your brother and his wife could have Éowyn's rooms."

"That sounds reasonable enough, and their guard will sleep in the barracks?"

"Presumably, yes --- but I suppose that Gamling will have made provisions for that," Fréalin said.

"Now, my Lady. Sit down and have a cup of hot tea, it will warm you," Fréalin said, "and then I will tell you what I have in mind for the feasts. As you know it is mostly traditional, but I put have in some extra things, which will please your father, I am sure."

The queen smiled; she knew that the elderly housekeeper had a soft spot for her father, prince Imrahil, ever since the charming ruler of Dol Amroth had visited Edoras for the first time just after the wars and complimented the housekeeper greatly for her cooking.

Lothíriel's companions, Mélia, who was Éothain's wife and Marshal Gamling's wife, Cerwyn, joined the two other women. They were more friends that anything else, Mélia being the sister of Amrothos' wife, Leia, and thus almost family – and as their husbands had been among Éomer's closest friends for years, there were no ceremony necessary as far as their relationship with the queen was concerned.

Both of them shook off the snow as they entered the kitchen. Mélia was a tall woman with reddish tinged hair and blue eyes, whereas Cerwyn was shorter, with wheat coloured, curly hair in a braid down her back and sparkling green eyes. Both of them typical representatives of the Rohirrim.

"Béma, it is cold. Luckily the men are not on patrol at the moment, one could not do without a man in one's bed these days," Cerwyn quipped. Lothíriel chuckled; it was typical of Gamling's outspoken wife to say such a thing.

"Oh, I do not know," Fréalin remarked, "an extra fur cover and a warm nightgown may do the trick as well – at least for an old woman like me, who has not had a man in her bed for many years."

Rumours had it that Fréalin had not only been the housekeeper of Théoden King but also his companion and bedfellow. Lothíriel had asked Éomer, who had just smiled and remarked that if so, he would not be surprised. He would not have begrudged him this; his uncle had been a lonely widower for many years, and Fréalin was a fine woman in every respect.

"Aye, indeed, but it is not so much fun," Cerwyn laughed in reply to Fréalin's remark.

"Do you not have enough children?" Fréalin asked, an eyebrow raised. Cerwyn and Gamling had three sons and a small daughter.

Cerwyn looked at her older friend. "Yes, but if the Valar grant us another, then so be it," she said.

Mélia looked at the others, "I agree with you; it is good that the men are home and not out in this weather. It looks as if it will start snowing any minute now; the clouds are hanging heavily over the mountains and it does not seem as if it will ever get light today."

Lothíriel rose to get some more tea and wrapping her hands around the hot mug, she went over to the window and looked out. Indeed, the clouds were dark and threatening.

"I do hope that the party from Dol Amroth will reach Edoras before it begins," she said.

Mélia had joined her at the window. "They may not," she said, "but Leia was born here, she knows the land around Edoras. Besides once it starts snowing, it will hopefully not be as freezingly cold, as it is now."

The queen nodded, but she did not feel sure in her heart. She hoped that her family would reach Edoras before the blizzard set in.

They did not. Before the day was gone, it started snowing heavily. On the third day, late in the afternoon, Éomer entered their chambers to find his wife at the window, wringing her hands and staring out into the white outside the windows.

He went over to her and put his arm around her shoulders. "You look as if you want to bring them here safely just by sheer determination," he said, placing a kiss against her hair.

Lothíriel turned towards him and flung her arms around him. "Oh, Éomer, I am so worried. They should have been here by now; there are wolves out there – and it is so cold. And there must be a lot of snow by now."

The king nodded. "I know, love, I know. But it has also been very windy, and it is far from certain that the snow has fallen in an even layer. Éothain and I have discussed it, and we have decided that we will take out a detachment tomorrow morning and see if we cannot find them. Even in a blizzard like this, we know the land and we shall be able to lead them here, I am sure. Besides, your father and your brother know how to take care of themselves. Do not worry, they will get here."

Lothíriel looked worried, but she abstained from saying anything and just buried her head at his chest, glad to feel the warmth and strength from her husband. Éomer held her close. He shared her worries, but felt sure that Imrahil and his men would keep on the right track even in the snow. His only concern was that they might not have anticipated the cold. On the other hand, Imrahil's new daughter-in-law was from Rohan and knew the climate of her home country so he shrugged off these concerns.

The snow did not cease, and the next morning Éomer was preparing to ride out with his men to get his father-in-law and his company safe to Edoras.

As he was dressing in his warm, lined leather tunic and breeches and donning his armour, Lothíriel came in. She looked at him, trying to smile.

"I am glad that you are willing to risk your life for my family, but I am not so sure that the people of Rohan will be as pleased. And Elfwine is yet very young." Her voice faded.

Éomer reached out to catch her hand. "Lothy, my love. I am not risking my life – not if I can help it, but should the worse happen, I am sure that you will rule Rohan well until our son is of age." He pulled her against him. "Now - you are not coming outside to see me off today," he murmured against her hair, "you will freeze to death."

"Today will be like every time you leave me," Lothíriel said against his chest, "and no different; I am sure that I will survive. Although it will be difficult keeping warm at night when you are not here."

"I do hope that I will not be away from you many nights," Éomer smiled, "hopefully we will have found them today or the day after so that we will all be safely back in due time for the holidays." He put a finger under her chin and raised her face towards him. "Love, do not worry, have I not promised always to come back to you?"

He had, and so far he had kept his word, but Lothíriel did not like the situation. Snow was still pouring down from a dark, almost black sky; the winds were howling and it was still freezingly cold in spite of Mélia's hopeful words to the contrary.

Lothíriel wrapped herself in her fur-lined cloak with the hood and went outside on the stairs with her husband. Éothain and a small contingency of men were waiting at the foot of the stairs with an impatiently stomping Firefoot. Éomer turned towards his wife and pulled her into his arms. "We'll bring your Ada here, do not worry, love." Then he kissed her and turned to walk down the stairs.

The men mounted and rode towards the gates at a sign from Éomer. Lothíriel remained standing on the stairs for a while, looking after them until they disappeared in the snow. She wrapped her warm cloak tightly around her and went indoors to see to her son's needs.

That day passed and the next, and still there were no sign of the party from Belfalas or of Éomer and his men. Lothíriel conferred with Gamling, who tried to reassure her that she should not worry, but the queen was not convinced. The blizzard was still at its highest when the morning of the third day dawned.

Lothíriel was nursing her son, when Mélia knocked on the door to the royal chambers and entered. Lothíriel could tell that the usually so brave marshal's wife was not at all herself. She crushed her youngest, Hama, in her arms.

"I fear, my Lady, that if they have not returned by nightfall, they will not return at all," she blurted out. Her face and voice held all the terror and fear that Lothíriel felt, too.

"I know," the young queen said, "but we must keep up hope; it will not do that we despair, not yet; it is early still." Lothíriel did not, however, feel as certain as she sounded.

At midday, Gamling entered the kitchen where Lothíriel was feeding her son. He bowed respectfully, which he always did when addressing the king and queen outside Éomer's study or their private apartments.

"My Lady, I believe that the blizzard is dying down; it has stopped snowing so we might hope that the king will return before nightfall."

Lothíriel looked up. "I hope so, Gamling, and it is, indeed, good news that the weather is getting better. Then I still have hopes that I will see my family – and my husband soon."

But nightfall came, and nobody returned. The outlooks had made no sightings. Lothíriel sat at her son's crib, watching the sleeping baby and silently praying to all deities that her son's father and his men – and her family would be safe. She rose and pulled her shawl tighter around her. She went to the window and stared out into the darkness. At least the night was cold and clear, a new moon shone over the plains and the stars were clear against the night sky.

"If not your guiding star, my love, then I hope that the beacons will guide you towards Edoras," she thought. At all times, beacons were burning outside the Golden Hall. When she first visited Edoras before they were married, Éomer had told her that it was an old tradition of the Éorlingas to have these beacons burning so that the riders could always find their way back.

She shuddered. Then she went into the adjacent chamber to undress and put on her nightdress. She wrapped herself in the robe that Éomer had presented her with last Yuletide; a dark-green velvet robe with gold embroidery. She found her slippers and tip-toed into the nursery to take a last look at her son.

Elfwine was sleeping peacefully on his back, his little fists on both sides of his golden head blissfully unaware that his father was out there in the cold, dark night looking for his grandfather. Lothíriel smiled softly and pulled the warm covers up over her son.

Then she blew out the candle burning in his room and went to their bedchamber. She shed her robe at the end of the bed and hurried under the heavy covers. Sleep did not come to her. Not because she was cold; a fire was burning brightly in the fireplace and the fur covers were nice and warm, but – he was not there.

She rolled over and clutched the pillow on Éomer's side of the bed; it still held his scent but not his warmth. Lothíriel pressed her face into the pillow, inhaling the scent that still lingered. She prayed that she would not be without him for the rest of her life. She fell asleep, crying silently with her face buried in his pillow.

Early next morning, before the sun even had shown its face over the mountains, Lothíriel was awaken by a soft hand on her shoulder. Cedra, her maid, stood over her. "My Lady, a rider has arrived with a message from the king. They are returning; all is well."

Lothíriel sat up in bed, shaking off the sleep and trying to comprehend what Cedra had said. "Éomer …. and my family?"

"Aye, all are well, my Lady. I shall see to the prince; he is still sleeping, but I will see to his needs when he wakes." The young woman smiled at the confusion and relief that spread over her queen's face. She could tell that the queen most certainly had been crying herself to sleep; she could see the traces in her face.

Lothíriel jumped out of bed, and found her clothes – a woollen dress, warm boots and her fur-lined cloak and ran out onto the patio, looking out over the plains. Gamling and Mélia joined her in the crisp winter morning, where the stars still hung above them in the dark blue morning sky and their breath came out as fumes in the cold air. The snow, lying white and undisturbed over the plains and covering the roofs and paths of Edoras, shone bright in the light of torches and beacons being lit all over the awakening city.

"Thank Béma," Éothain's wife whispered as she grasped her queen's hand.

"Indeed, thank Béma," Lothíriel whispered back as she squeezed her companion's hand.

"They will be here within the hour, Éomer sent Gerling ahead with the message; they are cold and tired but otherwise in good health." Gamling's gaze was searching the horizon as he spoke. "When it gets lighter, we will be able to see them approaching."

Lothíriel turned and looked at them both; the practical part of her mind started working and she started issuing orders: "Mélia, tell Fréalin that we shall need hot water to prepare baths for everyone, hot meals should be prepared and lots of tea. Tell her to break out some brandy, also for the men - if need be, I shall find Éomer's Gondorian brandy – and also to have plenty of blankets and extra covers brought to their rooms."

Mélia nodded and hurried inside to find Fréalin. Lothíriel smiled to herself; knowing Fréalin she was probably already up and about, making all the necessary preparations to receive their guests.

Then she addressed Gamling: "Gamling, please see to it that the same preparations are made in the bathhouses and the barracks. The men from Edoras will go home to their families, but those, who have no family and my father's guards will need these provisions. They are cold, too. See to it that brandy and mead are available in the barracks."

Gamling inclined his head. "Of course, my Lady. I shall see to it at once – and I shall tell the grooms to make preparations to receive the horses as well." He turned on his heel and hurried down the stairs to find somebody to execute the orders.

Lothíriel also turned and hurried into the great hall, where a couple of male servants were stirring the fires and moving the tables closer to the fires. Lothíriel smiled; her people were efficient and practical; you did not have to tell them everything.

On her way to help Mélia and Fréalin making the preparations to receive the king and their guests, she passed the kitchen where Cedra was feeding the little prince his porridge. When he saw his mother, he held out his little arms towards her, and Lothíriel smiled. "Now is as good a time as ever to have you weaned, young prince." For the past couple of days she had been teaching him to drink from a mug in stead of giving him suck with every meal, only at night before she put him to bed she still did it and Elfwine seemed to adjust well to the new arrangements.

"You never know when a brother or a sister may come our way; your father is alive and well," she mused as she gave her son back into her maid's arms.

After having made the final arrangements with Fréalin, Lothíriel was returning to the hall, when she heard shouts and commotion outside. She grabbed her cloak and ran out onto the patio in time to see her husband dismounting at the bottom of the stairs. He patted Firefoot's neck as if thank his horse for a job well done and gave him into the care of the head groom. Then he looked up, and seeing his wife at the top of the stairs, he held out his arms.

Lothíriel ran down the stairs and jumped right into her husband's arms. He held her very close for a while and then kissed her with cold lips. There was nothing cold, however, about his kiss and only a slight cough from his father-in-law made them aware that he had brought somebody with him.

Imrahil smiled. Almost two years of marriage and a young son had apparently not made any changes in the warm relationship of his daughter and son-in-law. Now the royal couple let go of each other and Lothíriel turned towards her father, her cheeks slightly pink from the cold – and embarrassment.

"Ada," she said and flung her arms around her father. He, too, was cold but otherwise seemed all right. "Welcome," she managed to say before she was embraced by her brother and her sister-in-law, who had emerged beside him.

Mélia came running to her little sister's side, embracing her warmly.

Her brother's grey eyes laughed towards his sister. She was glad to see her brother again; Amrothos was the closest to her in age and also her favourite. They had attended his and Leia's wedding in summer, when Elfwine was only a couple of months old, and they had not seen her family since.

As she was bidding her family welcome, Lothíriel heard Éomer address Gamling, who had joined them on the stairs, chuckling at the scene of welcome – especially his sovereign's blatant show of affection for his wife.

"Gamling, we had to leave the cart some leagues down the road; the horses could not drag it through the snow. Could you see to it that a sledge is equipped to bring the luggage to Edoras – but send out a detachment of guards as well. You never know what is lurking about." Gamling nodded. "Very well, my Lord Éomer."

Lothíriel heard this exchange. "Éomer, did something happen out there?" She looked inquisitively at her husband, one brow raised.

"No – not apart from a pack of wolves that came a little close the other night and then a pack of Dunlendings who thought us an easy target. But – otherwise? No, it has been fairly peaceful." Éomer grinned impishly at his brother-in-law, and Amrothos reciprocated the grin.

Imrahil just smiled and Leia turned her head to cast a look at her husband. Instantly Lothíriel knew that they were not exactly telling the truth. However, she decided that she would not pursue the matter just now; she would wait until she was alone with Éomer.

She took her father's arm. "Now let us all go inside before we freeze on the spot. You will need a bath, a change of clothes and some food. I am sure that we can find some things for you and Amrothos until your luggage arrives – and Mélia, if you cannot find anything in your wardrobe for Leia, search through mine.

Mélia nodded. "I shall take my sister and her husband to their room, and I am sure that between Éothain and me, we shall be able to find something for them."

Lothíriel led her guests up the stairs. In the meantime, Fréalin had made everything ready for them, including the baths. She had also made sure that a bath was provided for the king. Lothíriel had seen her father to his room and stepped into their bedroom just as Éomer was removing his armour.

She went up to him and helped him unfasten the shoulder plates and outer cuirass, as she had done so often before.

"Now tell me, husband. How bad was it really?" she inquired, as she was undoing the back straps of his chain mail.

He turned and kissed her cheek before he proceeded to remove the chain mail.

"You are much too perceptive, little wife," he said in a light tone. "It was a large wolf pack and they got hold of one of the horses, before we could do anything. They also attacked Firefoot, but you know him; he is fierce and killed off a couple of them before they could get to him. As for the Dunlendings – well, they were hungry and weaker than I had expected, but still dangerous. One of your father's men was slightly wounded and Ceorl received a minor blow to the head, but we managed to scare them off – for now. I am sure, however, that we shall see more trouble from them this winter."

As he spoke, Éomer had been removing the remainder of his clothes and now stood before her dressed only in the light breeches, which he wore underneath his heavier leather breeches. She was reminded that she had missed him in their bed these past couple of nights.

"Now go and get that bath while the water is hot," she said, her voice a little huskier than she had intended. A gleam of bright green showed in the king's hazel eyes.

"Are you coming with me?" he asked.

"Aye, but only to help you comb out that bird's nest you call hair before you wash it," she laughed.

"Sorry, love, I forgot to bring my comb," he shot back as he moved towards the combined dressing and washing room adjacent to their bedroom. On the way he shed his breeches and jumped right into the tub.

With a sigh of release he let himself slide into the hot water, feeling his muscles relax and the warmth return to his bones. "Ah, just what a saddle sore and cold man needs – and then his wife to wash his hair and scrub his back – and other parts," he uttered with his eyes closed.

"You would like that, would you not?" Lothíriel knelt beside the tub and started combing out his long, thick hair. It took a while but finally it was smooth and relieved of all the tangled knots, which his helmet and the wind had left in it.

"Now, duck under and I will wash your hair," she ordered, rising to find the soap that he preferred. He complied and soon he was leaning his head back, his eyes closed, enjoying his wife's hands in his hair.

Lothíriel had removed her woollen dress before she entered the room and now only wore the light winter shift in order not to soak her dress. A bright, large fire burned in the dressing room and the hot water also had the temperature considerably increased. Lothíriel had rolled up her sleeves and shed her light slippers.

Éomer was leaning back his head, as his wife was rinsing the soap out of his hair, enjoying her hands in his hair and the scent of her as she moved about him. He looked at her from below half-lowered lids as she moved across the room to retrieve her comb. Her shift was clinging to her form, partly from the heat in the room and it was wet in places, where she had been in contact with the splashing water, especially over her breasts, showing her nipples explicitly through the thin fabric.

She had made a knot of her hair on top of her head with little ringlets falling down from it, and her lovely neck was exposed. A wicked thought formed in Éomer's head as he was watching her.

Lothíriel knew her husband quite well by now, and she should have been prepared for anything, because as she was drying his hair, she suddenly felt his hands around her waist dragging her into the tub with him, and now she felt his lips against her neck. She moaned softly, and Éomer chuckled, "Now why did you not just do this in the first place?"

Lothíriel laughed. Yes, why indeed not? She might have known that Éomer would stage a manoeuvre like this. She rose in the tub removing her wet shift, her husband helped and disposed of it over the side of the tub. Then he kissed her and she moved so that she straddled him in the water.

When they emerged from the tub, the water had long turned cold, but they did not seem to mind. Éomer got out of the tub first and handed his wife a towel.

"I knew that this tub held other uses than one," he grinned cheekily as he was watching his wife drying off and wrapping herself in a robe. "And it is such a good way to truly welcome one's husband, my Lady, to help him with his bath."

Lothíriel chuckled, "Not only with his bath, it seemed." Then a thought struck her. "Blessed Béma. Cedra is still looking after Elfwine, and she must have put him down for his nap now. I hope that she has not ….."

"Has not what?" Éomer inquired.

"Has not put him down for his nap in his room, because then she will most certainly have overheard …." Lothíriel blushed violently.

"She will probably not have heard anything that she had not heard before," Éomer said dryly. "Houses in Rohan are not that large, my sweet, and she does have a number of younger siblings." By now he was grinning openly.

"Yes, but still …," Lothíriel was still not certain that she was pleased that her maid might have overheard that she and Éomer had – well …..

"I have told you before," Éomer teased her, "that if you do not want people overhearing you must learn to be quiet."

"Sometimes, husband, I really wonder what in all of Middle Earth possessed me to marry you." Lothíriel's temper was beginning to show in the dangerous glint in her sea-green eyes.

"My gorgeous body and good looks, presumably," Éomer ascertained as he was buckling his belt.

"Must have been, it can certainly be nothing else," Lothíriel murmured as she was searching her drawer for a dry slip.

They finished dressing. "We had better see how our son is doing," Éomer told his wife as he kissed her cheek. It looked as if he was forgiven, judging from the smile that she sent him.

They passed through their living room and into the nursery where Elfwine was waking from his nap. Éomer lifted his son from the crib and swung him in the air.

"Have you been good to Mama while I have been away?" he inquired as the babe gurgled merrily in response. "I believe that you have, but you are certainly in need of a change," he said dryly as he held out his son at arm's length and placed him on the table next to the crib.

Lothíriel had found some dry clothes for her son and started to undress him. Éomer was watching them with a smile.

"Do you know that you two are the most important people in my life and that there is nothing that I would not do for you?" he said as he held out a large hand to enfold his son's small fist.

Lothíriel looked up at her husband. "Aye, I do know – and if I had not known before, I have learned it these past few days; who else but you would have risked his own life to see my family safely to Edoras?"

Éomer laughed. "Oh, that? That was purely selfish, my love. I need somebody, whom I can win over in a drinking contest. My marshals and my men know me too well, and I had rather hoped that Amrothos would have forgotten how well I hold my drink."

Lothíriel shook her head. How infinitely typical of Éomer to brush off compliments with a remark like that.

She lifted up her son and put him in his father's arms. "Come now, husband. I believe that the late breakfast should be ready by now, and I trust that you are hungry, too?"

"Indeed I am hungry for some food, now that another hunger has been stilled." Éomer put his other arm around his wife. "Let us join the others."

After the meal, the queen consulted the housekeeper to ascertain that all preparations for the night's feast were done. Fréalin assured her queen that everything was ready; the great hall had been decorated, the tables laid and the food was cooking in the kitchen.

Lothíriel sighed. "The only thing that worries me is that not all of the guests invited will be able to come, but I suppose that we cannot do anything about the weather."

"No, my Lady. We cannot; at least your family is here – and most of the men and their families, who are living in Edoras will be there, too," Fréalin said calmly.

It was getting dark outside and it had started snowing again. It would not be possible for anybody to get through to Edoras now. Lothíriel stood for a moment looking out the window, grateful that at least some of their guests had made it through – but Merry, Gimli and Legolas would probably not be able to.

When she passed Éomer's study on the way to their bedroom to get changed for the feast, she heard voices. She peered in and saw her husband, her father and her brother. Apparently, Éomer had fetched their son. At the moment Amrothos was bouncing the child on his knee and the proud father and grandfather were spectators. She smiled at the sight, discreetly making her presence known.

Éomer smiled at her. "Lothy, is it time to get changed? Elfwine was awake and your father insisted that he had seen so little of his grandson so I brought him here."

Lothíriel smiled back as she went to rescue her son from his uncle's antics. "Cedra will be looking after him tonight. I do not think that the spectacle of a Yuletide feast in Edoras is something that my son should be subject to at his age."

He grinned at his wife. "The time for that will come before you know it. If you will excuse us, Imrahil, it is time for the King and Queen of Rohan to get changed in order to be able to welcome their guests in an hour or so."

Imrahil smiled and slapped his son's back. "Let us go get changed as well, son."

Later that evening, Lothíriel was sitting next to her husband, looking out over her guests. Although a large number had not been able to fight the elements and get to Edoras, most of the marshals, captains and Royal guardsmen and their families had gathered in the large hall, obviously all having a great time.

She also rejoiced seeing her father, her brother and his wife there, all safe within the walls of Meduseld.

Often enough had she cursed Éomer's reckless courage, but this time she valued it. She grabbed Éomer's hand, causing him to turn his head and look at her. She smiled and whispered, "Thank you, my love."

"Thank you for what, my sweet?" he inquired.

"For ensuring that it would be Yuletide in Rohan after all, bringing my family here in spite of the fury of the elements," she said.

He bent to kiss her, oblivious of the fact that they were not alone, but was interrupted by the large doors opening and a booming voice announcing: "Horse Master, break out the ale! The elf princeling and I got thirsty forcing our way through all that snow!" Gimli appeared through the doors like a snow troll with Legolas on tow; the elf sending them one of his usual enigmatic smiles.

Laughingly, Éomer rose to greet them – and Lothíriel smiled to herself. It would, indeed, be a Yuletide feast now; and she had better have her remedies ready for curing several hangovers in the morning!

15


End file.
